The Secret to a Heavenly Sandwich lies in the sauce
by Samlicker91
Summary: Crowley and Castiel discover they have the same problem - and need each other for the solution! Must the Door to Purgatory be reopened to achieve their goals? Or will their sandwiches forever be without moisture? Are the Winchesters aware of this! M for language and slightly disturbing content.


"Don't you see, you miserable albino bat? We both need it to happen, and we need each other to make it happen!"

"I understand, Crowley, but doing it again wo-"

"Shut up, Castiel! Just work with me. No small print, I promise. My word as the king," said Crowley, taking a light step towards the Angel of Thursday. He brought his hands up and pressed the tips of his fingers together; his body was screaming 'Let's make a deal, Castiel', and Castiel ate it up.

"I accept your offer, Crowley. But if you try to double-cross me or if any harm falls on the Winchester brothers, I swear, I will-"

"Hunt me down, rip out my jugular, and penetrate my delicate behind with the Angel Blade. Yeah, thanks, I know," Crowley smirked. "Your little pets will be none the wiser."

"What do you need me to do?" said Castiel, tone as sombre as ever.

"You know what I need you to do."

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

The line in Hell was moving as slow as ever. The hallway was flickering, due to a dying out lightbulb. It would never die, really, since it was meant to be that way. The constant flickering, and the whirring sound it eminated made Hell that much more intolerable, and intolerable is the way Crowley likes it.

The King himself was sitting in his corner office, massaged by the late Gia Carangi. Making faces of delight, he picks up an old, stylized 1950's telephone, and rolls the dial twice.

"Ah, yes, Katie, could you inform Tyrone he is needed in my office right n- Uhf, a little lighter, dear, if you don't mind, - right now?"

"I'm sorry, sir" said Katie on the phone, "But Tyrone is enjoying his annual torture week."

"No matter, how about Marcus?"

"He was killed by Castiel a while ago."

"Oh, oops, forgot," Crowley smiled a little. Orderlies, dropping like flies, was nothing out of the ordinary. "How about Fargrain?"

"Sir, last time we heard of Fargrain, he was chasing the Winchesters in North-Carolina."

Crowley let out a disgruntled sigh, for this was getting tedious.

"Listen, Katie, I don't care who you send in, as long as you think he's capable of getting me a sandwich."

"Very good, sir," Katie said in a rushed, scared manner. Crowley was pleased. No one should question the authority of the King.

A man stumbles into the office, out of breath.

"Y-you rang, your highness?"

Crowley looked at the man in disbelief.

"YOU are the ONLY ONE who's available to me right now?"

"Looks like that, sire," the man said, pointing his gaze to the floor in embarrasment.

The room got both colder and warmer at the same time. It got a lot colder for the man in a huff. Crowley was looking at the man like an angry dog looks at an intruder.

"Gia, honey, could you please leave us?" Crowley said, with a voice barely above a whisper. The lady, dressed very scantily, walked away with a sexy waggle on her rear. Crowley didn't care. He was fixated on the miserable goon.

"How dare you enter my office after being captured by the Winchester pests, on THREE separate occasions, and spilling your beans EVERY TIME? Didn't I kill you?! WHY didn't I kill you, PLEASE remind me!"

The man, barely holding himself together at the face of the King's Wrath, shook his head and whispered:

"I- uh, I don't know, your deviousness. B-but!" He lifted his eyes from the rug. "But, I did suffer for it, sire, I did. I waited on that line for years. I swear on me mum, I had the number 45503 at hand at all times, and I swear, they skipped over it three times." The man started to cry. "Didn't even get a bench, no, standing for 40 years, I mean... I've learned my lesson."

Crowley didn't feel mercy for the demon, but he did feel hungry, and even this bottomfeeder would be adequate enough to get him a simple sandwich with the good, spicy mayo from the surface world.

"Alright, Timmy, I'll give you one more chance to redeem yourself. If you fail me with this, not only will you spend a thousand years in that queue, you will do so with anchovis down your pants, and a hellhound munching on your behind."

The man let out a whimper. He didn't like anchovis, especially down his pants.

"Okay, sire, whatever it is you desire, your foulness."

"I need you to get me a sandwich. And not just any sandwich. No, it's a special sandwich, one you can not touch without these," Crowley lifted up a pair of demonized rubber gloves. A safety measure, nothing more. "And what I want you to do is get one of those delicious sandwiches they sell in Portland, and upgrade it with the Jaquille Extra Spicy Paprika Mayonnaise. And don't spare the mayo."

"Portland, sandwich, mayo. I think I can get that for you, sire."

* * *

Two hours later, Timmy the Demon was captured by the Winchester brothers, interrogated, spilled the beans on the sandwich, and got tossed to the queue with anchovis in his pants. Atleast the Hellhound was pleased, for Timmy had a very tender bottom.

"Must I do everything myself around here," exclaimed Crowley, and teleported to the Portland sandwich parlor. With a sly wink, he got the sandwich for free, along with the soul of the clerk. That's just how he rolls. With no notion of caring, he transferred himself away immediately after getting his sandwich, to the only place he could get the mayo at the right price: the Jaquille factory outlet.

Crowley does have one soft spot, and that soft spot is this mayo, and this factory outlet. It's the only thing he has left he cares of more than power. So imagine his surprise and dissapointment when he notices the outlet is gone, along with the factory.

After a quick research trip, that cost the lives of two humans, he had discovered, that the factory was put out of business by the Frank's Damn Fine Mayo corporation, the leader in mayonnaise sales. The mayonnaise they make is really tasty on the tongue of humans, but demons like Crowley crave a spicier touch, and spicy like Jaquille is not something to take lightly. Crowley's first instinct was, of course, to kill Frank and his successor Frank Jr., but refraining from that, he remembered the date of the factory's closing.

"It was a week ago," Crowley whispered to himself. "Only a week ago. I can still find it somewhere."

A desperate notion for sure, but worth a shot. Crowley searched far and wide, but the shelves were empty everywhere. Last bottle sold five minutes ago, said one of the managers of a store now in flames. Last bottle sold yesterday, said another, store now leveled by something the local papers call a "localized earthquake."

The one bottle Crowley did find was a pitiful attempt to capture him by the Winchester boys. They were a nuisance, but a small one at that. More painful than the basic demon bind was the fact that Dean broke the last bottle of Jaquille on Earth.

"You fucking meatsack, you're DEAD!" Crowley yelled with rage bubbling inside his twisted soul.

"Look out!" Sam shouted and hit the deck, taking Dean with him. Crowley had launched a small meteor from his hands in an attempt to burn Dean's face and the stupid grin off of it.

Crowley was going nuclear, and the boys knew they had crossed the line. They clumsily stood up and took running, but Crowley was already filling the place with brimstone and fire. Winchesters were sure they were done, but at the last second, Castiel took them away, and a minute later, came back for Crowley.

"Crowley," Castiel said, and took a step towards the man.

"Not one step closer, smiley," Crowley said and sat on the floor. Castiel stopped, and didn't say anything for a second.

"Crowley, I know what you've been up to. I've been following you."

"Have you now?" Crowley said with mockery in his tone. "I could smell your trenchcoat everywhere I went. Of course I knew you were following me."

"I want Jaquille mayo, too," Castiel said. "But it's all gone."

Crowley looked at the angel in disbelief.

"You like the Extra Hot Paprika too?"

Castiel looked puzzled.

"It's okay, I guess, but I really like the Sweety-roni Cucumber Mix. Earth's out of that too."

Crowley's face twisted in disgust.

"Sweety-roni, really? That shit tastes like sugar on syrup."

Crowley could see a line of saliva slithering down Castiel's mouth, just before Castiel wiped it away.

"You disgust me, and not in the good way either," Crowley said and looked up at the ceiling.

With a sigh he closes his eyes, trying to think of ways to get his hands on the Extra Hot Paprika, but no great plan surfaced. Castiel sat next to him, mimicking his way of looking at the ceiling.

"It would be good if we could make it ourselves," Castiel said. "My vessel is crying in outrage, he really liked that mayonnaise."

"But we can't, all Jaquilles mayos had a secret ingredient no one knows."

"How can no one know it? How could they make it without knowing it?"

"Well, there's was this one person who knew it, but you see, making the mayo myself was one of the first things I thought of. I applied a teeny tiny amount of force on him, and he bastard went and died."

"Teeny tiny," Castiel mirrored, and a silence fell between them.

_It would be so easy to make it ourselves, that's true, _Crowley thought, _but at this point it would require Godly powers to- _Crowley sprung up from the floor.

"Cass, you wonderful little tool, give me a hug!"

"What the- no, Crowley, stop!" But it was too late. Crowley pulled Castiel from the ground and gave him a big, awkward hug. "What's gotten into you?!"

"Oh, you gave me the most brilliant idea. How about we make the mayonnaise ourselves!"

"But you just said you killed the last man who knew the secret ingredient."

"No, no, you oversized toy-for-god, I mean, CREATE it ourselves. All we need is a sip of Souls from the Purgatory and-"

"No! Absolutely not! We are NOT opening Purgatory again."

"Why not? Just a little peek. Just enough to get our straws in and take a tiny dose of power."

" 'Why not', are you listening to yourself, Crowley? Even for you, this is a reckless idea. Last time we opened the door, we almost let the Leviathan loose. It took all my power to push them back to the Purgatory, we're not opening the door again!"

"Don't you see, you miserable albino bat? We both need it to happen, and we need each other to make it happen!"

"I understand, Crowley, but doing it again wou-"

"Shut up, Castiel! Just work with me. No small print, I promise. My word as the king," said Crowley, taking a light step towards the Angel of Thursday. He brought his hands up and pressed the tips of his fingers together; his body was screaming 'Let's make a deal, Castiel', and Castiel ate it up. With a sigh of untold doubt, Castiel answered.

"I accept your offer, Crowley. But if you try to double-cross me or if any harm falls on the Winchester brothers, I swear, I will-"

"Hunt me down, rip out my jugular, and penetrate my delicate behind with the Angel Blade. Yeah, thanks, I know," Crowley smirked. "Your little pets will be none the wiser."

"What do you need me to do?" said Castiel, tone as sombre as ever.

"You know what I need you to do."

"I diverted the Winchesters, again, to look in all the wrong places, as per your request," Castiel laid the report on Crowley. "But I've been doing some research, and quite frankly, I cannot see how this is a good idea. The Leviathan are angry, Crowley, and they want out."

"Leviathans, Schleviathans, am I right?" Crowley said with an evil grin. "I just want to pop this cherry a little bit. Look, I even made the sigil look small and cute!"

Crowley pointed towards the opening sigil, which he made just small enough for two straws to put through.

"You still have no idea if the door will be as small," Castiel noted. Crowley shrugged, but was still in a good mood.

"What does it matter? You stopped the Leviathan from coming once, you can do it again, can't you?"

Castiel didn't say anything, but at this point it was too late to stop Crowley, either. He was chanting the ritual.

"... Tandem!" Crowley shouted the last word with vigor. The sigil collapsed inward, revealing a small hole to the Purgatory. Rejoicing Crowley slapped his hands together and then pointed at the hole.

"Look, Cass! Such a tiny little hole! No Leviathan is going to come out that way!"

He took out two bendy plastic straws, and they stuck 'em to the hole.

"Bottoms up," Crowley said, and started sucking out the souls. "Mm, tastes like strawberries!"

Castiel pushed Crowley aside by a tiny amount, so he could get on the action too. They sucked the souls for a while, until Crowley noticed something black and gooey coming along Castiel's straw.

"Goop in your straw! Push it back!" Crowley shouted, and Castiel obliged. He blew the snot-like Leviathan back to the Purgatory, and they promptly shut the door.

"I have to admit, it went better than I expected," said Crowley with a smile on his face. "I feel no slimey-wimeys inside of me. How about you?"

"No..," Castiel said, rubbing his stomach. "Just regular souls."

"Alright Castiel, let's make mayo!" Crowley said with triumph in his voice, and waved his hands in a dramatic manner.

Nothing happened.

"You're doing it wrong," said Castiel. "You have to do it like this..."

Castiel took a deep breath, and concentrated with his eyes closed. Upon opening them, he made the mightiest possible arm-pump ever witnessed by demon or angel eyes, and yelled in a godlike manner:

"Let there be mayonnaise!"

For a while, everything seemed completely unchanged. No flickering of lights, no mayo descending from the heavens, not even a small single-serving container appeared out of thin air. Crowley let out a frustrated growl, but Castiel told him to maintain himself, because...

"I feel something peculiar."

Something _did _happen. There was a trickle of mayonnaise coming from the trousers of Castiel, running down his leg.

"Blech!" Crowley said, and kneeled to observe. Immediately upon dropping onto one knee, Crowley felt it too. A small burning tingle, barely noticeable, turned into a rushing of liquid fire. His meatsuit was crying in terror, so loud Crowley thought, just for a microsecond, that he would lose control.

"Sweet merciful ass-fucking God!" Crowley shouted, and sprung up, sticking his hand instinctively down to the burning ring of fire. He pulled his fingers up, now covered in reddish goo. He smelled it.

"It's mayo," Crowley said curiously, with tears still rushing from his eyes. "It's the goddamn mayo, and it's coming out of my colon."

"Curious," said Castiel with a typical Castiel-like frown on his face. He, too, reached down to his pants, and had a lick. "It tastes just right."

"You tasted your ass-mayo?" Crowley said in disbelief, but after a second, he tasted his own, too. "Yeah... I guess it tastes the same."

He wiped his mayonnaisey hands to Castiel's trenchcoat, and started limbing away, towards where the Purgatory soup kitchen was.

"Why can't we control it?" he wondered outloud, with Castiel trying to get the spicy mayo from his coat.

"Possibly because we didn't get that many souls through straws?" he suggested while wiping with his (formerly) clean hand. "Anyway, I think we should get the most out of this situation. I don't like this sensation, but that's the best we got, unless you have any suggestions that do not require another tempt of fate with the Leviathans."

Crowley aped Castiel's sullen expressions without him seeing, but no, he didn't have any better ideas. Maybe he'd just have to get used to the extra spicy feeling in his sphincter. With a sigh he turned to Castiel and said:

"Alright. Let's make business."

"What the hell is this?"

"I don't know, Dean. What kind of sick bastard would do this?"

"Sammy, it's not natural, I'm telling you. God, I feel sick just looking at it," said Dean while reaching to his jacket pocket, searching for his trusty flask.

Before them laid a vast warehouse, filled to the brim with glass jars. On the jars, there was a label that read "Heaven & Hell Sweet Cavity Mayonnaise" and "Heaven & Hell Burning Sensation Mayonnaise", for the sweet and hot mayonnaise types respectively.

"I mean, they're not even good mayonnaise. Frank's Damn Fine Mayo beats this crap any time of the year," said Dean, and took a big gulp. "You know what, Sam? I think this is our kinda gig."

"What?" Sammy said, half amused, half shocked. "I know it's not good mayo, but people can make any kind of mayo they want, doesn't have to be our gig if it's sour."

"No no, he's right," said a voice behind the Winchesters. A voice that belonged to Crowley.

"Crowley!" the Winchester brothers exclaimed, reaching for their weapons of choice; Dean took out the knife, and Sam ripped his shirt off to show off his abs. Crowley, instead of retaliating, had an itch in his ass, and started to scratch vigorously.

The Winchesters looked in disbelief. The King of Hell was scratching his anus right there in front of them. After a while, Crowley stopped, and looked pained.

"I'm sorry, but can we do this later? Making all this mayonnaise is really taking a toll on my body."

Dumbfounded, the brothers looked at each other, then at Crowley, then at the jars. There was an almost audible whirr inside their brains, while they tried to work out what they had just heard. First one to reach it was Sam.

"Eww! You.. And the mayo.. That's, god, that's just foul!"

"What, what, tell me?" Dean said, and lowered the knife. Sam leaned in and whispered into Dean's ear. Dean's eyes widened, and he spat on the ground.

"Oh, gross! You poop mayo? I had that in my _burger _today!"

"Yes, well, that _tragedy _aside, how else do you think we could have gotten this mayonnaise?" Crowley said irritated.

"_We? _As in, not you alone?" noted Dean, and Sam nodded along. He was looking at the jars, pondering how much it hurts to, in lack of a better word, _produce _so much super spicy mayonnaise. He shuddered at the thought.

"Well, I had some help," Crowley said, with barely a smile on his face. The stressed butthole was sore and uncomfortable. "You might know him. Worked with me before."

"No," said Dean. "No way."

"Yes way. Dear old Cas."

At this moment, Castiel appeared between the brothers.

"Castiel, you son of a gun," Dean said while pulling back his fist for a punch to the face. Cas saw the punch coming, but was too befuddled to move before it hit. The fist smacked Castiel square on the nose, and Crowley applauded a little, while Sam cringed.

"Ow," Cas said holding his nose. "I thought you forgave me."

"I did, until you did it _again! _Cas, seriously!" Dean shook his hand in the air; punching angels in the face is much like punching walls.

"Dean, it's not like that. This was the only way to get the mayonnaise back. Crowley killed the man who knew the recipe. It was gone, for good."

"Well... Good! This stuff sucks anyway!" Dean roared in anger of this betrayal.

"But I swear to you, no humans are being harmed because of this. So far, the only thing we have succeeded in doing is creating more of this mayonnaise."

Dean huffed, and went for another punch, but Sam stopped him.

"Look, Dean, I get that you're mad. Cas working with Crowley yet again is not the best case scenario. But c'mon, look at the big picture. All they're doing is making mayonnaise. There's no reason to think this is anything else."

Dean and Sam argued for a while, whereas Crowley and Castiel were watching them in uncomfortable silence; Crowley uncomfortable, because he had a leak in the trunk, and Castiel because of his feelings of regret. After a while, Sam and Dean approached the two on-lookers.

"We've come to a decision."

Crowley looked amused. Who are they to reach decisions for the king of hell?

"You have to stop making mayonnaise. Dean thinks Castiel is a douche for working with a demon, so it ends now."

"So it shall be," Castiel said. "I'm sorry if I disrespected you, Dean. I meant no harm."

"Yeah, whatever, let Sam continue," said Dean, barely looking at the sullen angel.

"And I think that this whole mayo biz is pretty weird, and it's grossing me out, so... I mean, I'm all for making mayo, but we really don't know if this will be good for people, it's coming out of your... dispensers."

"Fine," said Crowley. "But not because you say so! My ass is KILLING me with these constant leaks." He wiped the back of his trousers only to find them moist of newly leaked mayo. With a disapproving grunt, he disappears and reappears with toilet paper clinging to his thousand dollar shoes.

"I don't know," Castiel said trying to break the ice. "I think it was kind of nice. It is my understanding, that humans enjoy the feeling of an empty bowel. I like it too."

After a moment of silence, Sam let out a really drawn out sigh, and declares the conversation to be over for the sake of his remaining sanity.


End file.
